


Snooping Through Memory Lane

by the_fickle_mind_of_a_christmas_light



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Makkachin deserves an award for putting up with his shit, My First Fanfic, WHAT are the genders of these dogs???, that I finished anyway, they're so effing cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fickle_mind_of_a_christmas_light/pseuds/the_fickle_mind_of_a_christmas_light
Summary: Victor pays his respects to Vicchan and finds a photo album full of Yuri's childhood photos.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not making money off this shit. I do not own it. Don't sue me; I'm a broke ass.
> 
> I've never finished a story until now, so this is my first time posting. And it's almost 2am. My brain wants to die.  
> Well, I love these characters to death, especially Makkachin, and if I do many more of them she'll be a big part in them.  
> Not sure where I was going with this, but I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

One thing Victor has learned about himself since coming to Hasetsu was that all of those times his friends back home called him a snoop - they were totally correct. But that’s okay! Self discovery was good! Or something like that. So he wasn’t incredibly surprised when one glorious rainy day he found himself drifting through Yuri’s childhood via the Katsuki family’s collection of photos. He was already in the room after all.

***

Victor had woken up with a headache that day. Nothing major, just a steady aching behind the eye, but enough that he’d sent a fretting Yuri to train with Minako for the morning so that he could sleep it off. When he’d woken a good hour or so later than he figured he had any right to, and feeling considerably grumpier than usual for having neglected his duty to Yuri as his coach, Victor felt the familiar urge to wander tugging like a string at his chest.

Away from the onsen and the guest rooms and the kitchen, in the quietest part of the house, Victor found himself walking past an open room with soft lighting and almost tripped over himself in his haste to double back and poke his silver head into the mystery room. It was the scent the made him stop. Unmistakably incense. But once he got a look at what was inside he knew he’d really discovered something exciting. A shrine! How pretty it was! The English word “quaint” came to mind, though he hadn’t the foggiest notion as to what it meant.

Victor went over to it immediately. There was burning incense on the elegant stand alongside a plate of prettily made sticky buns that Victor knew instinctively he wasn’t to touch. There was a picture there, too. Victor smiled wistfully at what was clearly a young Yuri smiling joyously back at him, a small, chocolate colored poodle pup looking ecstatic to be in his arms. The dog tag placed lovingly at the base of the frame read Vicchan. 

Ah, yes. Yuri’s mother had told him of Yuri’s poor dog almost the moment he’d walked into Yu-topia Katsuki with Makkachin bounding at his heel. His poor Yuri, losing his dog like that right before a competition. If Victor’d lost Makkachin, he probably would have crashed and burned as well.

Victor was pulling his phone out before he’d even decided consciously to do so, searching for the appropriate Japanese way to pay his respects. Because he absolutely must pay his respects. He had been Vicchan’s namesake after all. 

That done, he rose to his feet and turned his attention to the rest of the small room. As it turns out there was quite a bit more to be seen. Built into the adjacent wall was a neat row of shelves containing books, binders, and other nic-nacs. After a minute or ten of ruffling around (read: rudely sticking his pretty Russian nose into other people’s business) he found his prize. A photo album filled to the brim with pictures of Yuri as a child. The 27-year-old let out a squeal of pure delight. 

He clutched the album to his side and speed walked back to his room as inconspicuously as he could manage. Victor shut to door overcousiously behind him, barely remembering to flick on the lights before throwing himself down on his bed. The mattress bounced violently, waking Makkachin from her nap. She gazed on her master with longsuffering black eyes, prompting Victor to scrub the chocolate curls between her perky ears and murmur a quiet apology in their native language.

They settle in, human against the wall with his pillow cushioning his back and canine drifting back to sleep with her head resting on her owner’s thigh. Victor opened the book with reverence, wishing it were thicker than the inch or so that he had but giddy with excitement nonetheless. He’d been making such an effort to learn more about Yuri, his life, his dreams. They were things he should already know as his couch, and he felt dreadfully behind.(After all, Yakov had known most of his pupils since they were children.) But he’d barely gotten a few words out of Yuri about it so far, and while his family and friends have been quite helpful, most of Victor’s time with them has been spent in the presence of Yuri himself who was always quick to protest anything that made himself the center of attention. This was a prime opportunity that hadn’t even crossed Victor’s mind, and he intended to savor it.

The first few pictures were of various people holding a dark haired, chubby cheeked baby with shining, wonderstruck eyes that could only belong to Yuri Katsuki. The next several were of an equally chubby toddler - sitting in front of a television, running out on the grass on a sunny day, eating the grass on a sunny day, playing on an old playground, his mother pushing him on a swing, finger painting, and finding all sorts of creative ways to make messes - most of which showed him squinting determinedly at the camera. There was one picture in particular that he liked, Yuri smiling brightly at whomever held the camera, bundled up in a puffy red coat. This photo was clearer than some of the rest, showing almost every detail of the pink cherry blossom that had landed on the child’s rosy face. Victor smiled hugely when he saw this, taking a moment to smooth the pad of his thumb over the little cheek. 

Then came the ice. He must have been very young when he started skating, like himself, and Victor made a mental note to ask somebody exactly when that was. There were many pictures of a round faced Yuri at the rink, bundled up in sweaters or coats to the point that it looked hard to move, wearing little skates that seemed to be laced up the wrong way. 

There must have been a time gap somewhere because when Victor turned the next page he’s older - maybe six, seven? - wearing thick, blue rimmed glasses that are a bit too large on his face, and thinner, baby fat now at the bare minimum. There’s more of him on the ice, now doing simple tricks that don’t look half bad, many with his friends, and after a moment Victor was able to place them as Yuuko and Takeshi. There’s one of Yuri holding a pair of broken glasses, and after that he no more photos of him wearing them when he’s on the ice. Then came a series of pouting Yuris looking very unhappy, and often teary eyed, as he shows off his bandaged elbows and bloodied noses, and Victor had to chuckle a little at this because it looked like Hiroko cataloged every injury the boy gave himself until he was roughly nine years old. No wonder Yuri felt like a failure every time he fell. Well, at least Victor knew now. And what he knew about, he could find a way to fix.

Next was Vicchan. Endless photos of Yuri with his poodle, including a rather cute one where the puppy had followed Yuri out onto the ice. Victor hummed, stroking Makkachin’s ear between his fingers and remembered when she used to do that. Vicchan was almost a constant presence after that. There were pictures of him - or her? - with everybody, a bubbly Yuuko playing tug-a-war with her pink sweater sleeve, yipping at Hiroko’s feet as she cooked (Yuri smiling fondly where he sat on the counter in the background,) licking a slobbery stripe up Takeshi’s disgruntled face. 

And then there were the teenage years. There was Yuri reading a book, Yuri dancing at Minako’s, Yuri dancing on stage at a recital, followed by a series of Yuris holding a small to medium sized trophies, Yuri with his arm arched up to throw a ball in front of the same old playground Victor had seen in the toddler photos, Yuri with acne, Yuri skating out on the ice but in costumes this time, Yuri grinning hugely, holding a trophy in front of a rink Victor didn’t recognize, Yuri and Yuuko sitting together in a room plastered with . . . Victor’s face, Yuuko doing Yuri’s make up, Yuri sitting in the grass once more with Vicchan in his lap and a yellow flower tucked behind his ear. Victor has to laugh outright when he comes across one of Yuri looking very uncomfortable in a horrendous looking suit, posed in front of the onsen with Vicchan sitting at his feet.

There’s not much more after that, and Victor gathered that that must have been around the time that he left to train in Detroit. It’s mostly Vicchan with the family after that, some pictures of Yuuko’s triplets when they were very little, and a few scattered photos of Yuri with Phichit and his hamsters or Celestino’s arm around his shoulders that he must have sent over from America.  
When Victor reached the end of the album he let out a light sigh. He smoothed his hand over the back cover and wondered if he’d ever stop craving more, more, more when it came to Yuri. But that’s a dangerous thought, so he sat it aside, choosing instead to smile and leaf his way back through the photo sheaths in search of his favorites.

There was a quiet, unintrusive knock at the door. “Victor? I’m back from Minako’s. May I come in?”

Victor hummed invitingly as he looked back for the picture of Yuri with the cherry blossom on his cheek. He wondered if he’d have enough time to take a picture on his cell phone before Yuri started to freak out. 

He heard the hinges squeak. “Is your head feeling better, Vic-”

Victor looked up to see Yuri standing frozen a few steps into his room, eyes glued to the album resting in his lap. His mortified face turned so red that the blush started to force its way down his neck. Yuri said nothing, but one second he was creeping forward and the next he had snatched up the album and was racing out the door. Makkachin, who had woken at his arrival, gave a happy yip and followed Yuri down the hall.

“Yuri!” Victor called after them, smile so wide that it physically hurt. Victor drew the pillow around to his front and held it against his chest for a moment, chuckling warmly. 

He’s just too damn cute.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. Please review and everything! This is my first story; I really wanna hear from you guys!  
> I love you, Luna!!
> 
> Thankx for reading!


End file.
